


Mind Over Matter

by mydeira



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha had a feeling she was going to be ruined for regular blokes after this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Over Matter

It had started with a kiss. After having shared no less than twelve kisses with the Doctor by that point, Martha had come to accept the fact that they really did mean nothing to him. So she was very surprised when a quick “Martha Jones, you were brilliant!” celebratory kiss in the console room after another narrow escape lingered a bit longer than usual.

“Careful, Mr. Smith, you might give a girl the wrong impression doing that,” she teased when he finally pulled back.

His fingers ran lightly along the side of her face, trailing down from temple to cheek and back to travel the curve of her neck. “I can assure you, Miss Jones, you are getting exactly the right impression.” There was a low, smoky quality to his words that lent credibility to what he was saying.

That didn’t mean she bought it. Martha forced a laugh, backhanding him playfully on the shoulder. “You almost had me there for a moment.”

Those large, brown eyes of his watched her, unblinking and unreadable.

When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “Doctor?”

“I’m not having you on, Martha.”

She swallowed. “But—”

He kissed her again. And there was no mistaking his intention this time as he pressed in, backing her against the console and gaining easy entrance with her surprise. But she was quick to recover and respond in kind. It had been too long since she’d had a proper snog, not to mention other things, and she was not about to pass up the opportunity to remedy the situation.

The hand that had settled on her shoulder moved downward, grazing beneath her jacket and over her breast, down to her ribs and coming to rest at her waist. His fingers tugged at the side of her top, bringing it up for his hand to slip under and settle against bare skin. She shivered at the contact.

The Doctor broke the kiss and nibbled along her jaw line. Reaching her ear, he whispered, “You are a liar, Martha Jones.”

It took her a minute to focus. “Wait, what?”

Tongue and lips teased along the delicate skin of her neck. “You lied. You said you had no interest in aliens.”

Martha decided it was high time to take her own initiative and set to work tugging his shirt free from his trousers. “Of course I lied. I’ve got pride, you know. Being told that a decent kiss is nothing more than a DNA transfer is a bit insulting.”

“Decent?” he chuckled. “You were breathless when I walked away. It was more than decent.”

“The ego on you.” Shirt finally free, she started work on his trousers. The tight, brown ones.

His hand moved from her waist to her back and pulled her flush against him. “Nearly a thousand years, Martha…it’s well earned and deserved.”

She was actually a bit breathless at the moment. Finding her voice, she managed to sound normal when she spoke. “We’ll see about that.” And she set to work on his trousers again.

The Doctor tugged her hands away and placed them on the console. He held her there, long fingers gently wrapped around her wrists. “Not just yet,” he informed her.

So that was how he liked to play it. Fine by her. More than fine, as a matter of fact.

“You have something better in mind?” she inquired, smirking up at him.

He leaned in close enough that she had trouble focusing on him properly. “Much better. So long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

“No treat unless I’m a good girl?”

His thumbs brushed along the insides of her wrists. “Quick to catch on,” his voice had drop even lower and taken on a rough edge, “that’s my Martha.”

His kiss was quick and fleeting, just enough to get her interested before he broke it off and stepped back to lean against one of the support beams.

“Undress.”

Martha cocked her head to the side, studying him for a moment. “You’re a kinky one, aren’t you?” He just grinned. “Figures.” She slipped her jacket off and tossed it over onto the bench. Crossing her arms, she lifted off her shirt next.

She was about to unfasten her bra when the Doctor shook his head and nodded towards her jeans. “Those first.”

She shrugged, kicked off her shoes, unfastened her jeans and slid them down and off with practiced efficiency. Now in nothing but her knickers and bra, Martha placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Well?”

The Doctor didn’t respond, just stood there, looking. She could almost feel his gaze as it moved from her toes to her head, slowly traveling over every line and curve. The scrutiny didn’t bother her. She was fine with how she looked. She’d figured out early on that getting embarrassed didn’t change things any, so why bother?

Finally, his eyes reached hers. “You’re so confident.” The way he said it, it sounded like very high praise.

“It’s a waste of time not to be,” she replied.

“I like that.” He rejoined her at the console, closing the distance between them with the ease of a predator stalking its prey. “And I really like you, Martha Jones.” The index finger of his right hand grazed along her collarbone and out to her shoulder, slipping under the strap of her bra and sliding it down. He repeated the action with his left hand, touch feather-light.

Martha had a feeling she was going to be ruined for regular blokes after this. But at the moment, she really couldn’t care.

“One should always savor the first time with a new lover,” the Doctor murmured, his left hand continuing its journey down her arm and lingering over her tattoo. “The upper arm isn’t that common of a choice for women of your time. Generally it’s the lower back or the hip, possibly the ankle if she’s particularly daring. Gorgeous design, by the way. But why here?”

“I didn’t want to have to go to extremes to show it off, I suppose,” she answered with a shrug. “And it just seemed right at the time.”

One of his eyebrows arched up. “At the time but not now?”

He did get particular about the strangest things sometimes. “Still seems right, I suppose. No regrets, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him. He moved over to her right side, bending close to study the design. What he did next shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did. She’d seen him lick far stranger things in their travels.

His tongue darted out, tracing one whorl after another, never breaking contact as his eyes drifted close. It was almost as if he were trying to memorize the design by taste alone. Martha couldn’t help but watch in fascination.

When he finally pulled back, tongue rolling into his mouth as he seemed to savor things to the last, he twined the fingers of his left hand with her right and quickly spun her, caging her to him, her back to his chest, his hard-on pressing unmistakably against the swell of her bottom.

“The things I’m going to show you, Martha Jones…” he whispered huskily against her ear. “The things I’m going to do to you… You’ll be grateful I didn’t take you behind the regent’s throne like I wanted to.”

The thought had appeal. “Probably a good idea you waited,” she replied, surprising herself with how breathless she sounded. “Wouldn’t want to end up imprisoned for indecent exposure.”

The Doctor’s chin came to rest on her shoulder. “Oh, no worry of that. The Plybrians actually condone public sexual congress. Remember those three we saw in the park?”

“Bastard. I knew they weren’t wrestling!”

He chuckled. “Then why did you ask?”

“Alien culture. What do I know?” She gasped suddenly as his free hand began to tease along the waistband of her knickers.

“Quite a bit,” he purred, one finger dipping beneath the elastic and causing her to shiver with anticipation as it ran back and forth, ever lower. “Are you wet for me, Martha?”

A low moan escaped from her at his words. If she hadn’t been before, she sure as hell was now.

“Why ask when you can find out?” she brazened.

“For that little sound you just made, of course.”

“Doctor—” Whatever she had intended to say was immediately forgotten as the Doctor’s hand finally reach her pussy, moving deftly between her legs. Expert fingers homed in on slick flesh and found the spots that made her whimper with the lightest of contact. He knew what he was about, no denying that. By the time his fingers made their way inside her, Martha wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Her body gave a tiny shudder as his thumb idly brushed over her clit.

“Easy, Martha. You won’t come yet.” It was an unmistakable command.

“Then you’d better stop doing that,” she gasped.

“Mind over matter, Martha,” he said soothingly, then laughed. “Mind over matter, Martha—just rolls of the tongue, doesn’t it?”

She would have hit him if she could.

The Doctor’s thumb ran over her clit with a bit more intent this time, all the while his fingers worked inside her.

“Don’t come,” he said, breath tickling hotly over her skin.

God, she was right there. It would be so easy to give in. But the Doctor seemed determined for her to hold out, regardless of how relentless he was. Fine. She’d show him. Mind over matter, right? Martha focused on the wall across from them, honing in on the details, trying to distract herself from the sensations threatening to overwhelm her. Did he have to have such amazing hands, though?

“Martha,” he sing-songed. “Still with me?”

Barely. “Yeah,” she said, though it came out as something unintelligible as his fingers twisted just so. “Fuck,” she groaned. “You’re a bastard.”

“And I’ve hardly begun with you.”

She cried out in protest a moment later as he withdrew his hand. No fear about coming now. 

His hold on her loosened enough that she managed to twist and glare up at him. “That was just rude, Doctor.”

He smirked. “Rude and not ginger, that’s me,” he said lightly, then proceeded to thoroughly lick clean the fingers that had been inside her until a moment ago. She’d like to have come from the mere sight. That long wicked tongue curled around each digit in turn before sucking them slowly into his mouth. He had the look on his face that he got when he was trying to puzzle something out, brows drawn together, slight frown. Then his face suddenly split into a wide, bright grin. “Essence of Martha Jones. Wholly unique.”

Martha couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a strange one, there’s no denying that.”

“I’m alien. Of course I’m strange.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Hey, now, none of that.”

“So you can be rude, and I can’t?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s totally not fair.”

“Well, when you get as old as I am, you can be rude, too.”

“Oh, no. The older you get, the less rude you should be. Because you know better,” she countered.

“Trying to throw logic at me now, are you?”

She grinned. “Whatever works.”

He spun her out away from him, only letting go of her hand when she came to a full stop. “Knickers off.”

“Excuse me?” Martha had never met anyone who could change moods or conversations quicker than the Doctor. Even though she was used to the quick shifts, he still managed to throw her off guard half the time.

“Knickers off. But leave the bra on.”

Strange and stranger. She shook her head and slid them off.

The Doctor came to stand in front of her. He didn’t say a word as he loosened his tie and slipped it off. Nor when he finally removed his suit coat, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t even speak when he settled his hands on either of her hips and gently guided her back until she bumped into the console. His lips curled in a tiny smirk, left eyebrow quirking up as suddenly Martha found herself hoisted up and settled on a flat part of the console, which was considerably warmer than she’d expected. Then the Doctor dropped to his knees. When he looked up at her, his face had grown almost worshipful. “Ready for round two?”

She was tempted to ask exactly how many “rounds” there were going to be, but decided on a simple nod. She’d find out eventually.

“Good,” he purred. He skated his hands up her legs, gradually urging them further apart the higher he went. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very, very long time.”

Martha was beginning to feel the tiniest bit of embarrassment at being so on display. Confidence in your body really only went so far. And thinking along those lines would only make matters worse, so she focused on what the Doctor had said.

“Why now?” she asked.

He didn’t even think about it. “Because now feels right.”

The low intensity of his voice coupled with the dark, hungry look in his eyes very nearly took her breath away. When he leaned forward, bringing mouth and tongue finally into contact with her too long ignored pussy, Martha was absolutely certain her heart stopped. She’d forgotten how close she’d been before, how close to the edge she still was.

Every bit of care he’d taken to tracing her tattoo earlier the Doctor took now, delving between folds and mapping ever millimeter of over sensitive flesh.

Martha gripped the edge of the console on either side of her as if her life were dependent upon it. Something told her that the same rules still applied. Don’t come. Regardless of how he kept finding the spots that threatened to send her world shattering apart.

“Fuck,” she gasped, body shaking with the strain of holding back. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Pride or no, there was only so much one mere human was capable of controlling.

The Doctor’s right hand squeezed her thigh as he backed off his assault ever so slightly. It felt like encouragement. Hold on, Martha, it’ll be so worth it. Bloody Christ, it had better be. She was going to kill him otherwise.

He kept on for what seemed an eternity, building her higher and higher, only relenting for a moment or two when she was absolutely certain that this was it, she couldn’t take any more.

And then he did it again, pulled away without warning.

She just stared at him when he stood. He looked entirely too smug at leaving her hanging yet again. She’d had enough.

She grabbed the Doctor by the shirt front and hauled him forward and, heedless of her own juices coating his mouth, kissed him with a savage, unmistakable hunger. He was starting to respond when she broke it off. Martha was determined to control some part of this whole thing.

“You’re going to fuck me now, is that understood?”

He blinked, cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Well, it’s about time.”

“Huh?”

“I was only waiting for you.”

She was going to bloody kill him. No. He was going to fuck her. Then she was going to kill him. Several times over, she decided.

“Don’t you dare think I’m going to forget this for a moment, Doctor,” she informed him while unfastening his trousers.

He calmly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside. “I have a feeling you’re going to remember this for a very long time.”

Shoving his trousers down, Martha was pleased to discover that the Doctor wore naught underneath. And, god, but his cock was quite possibly the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Though that was probably due to the fact that her brain was so completely lust addled at the moment. She made a note to give it due examination at a later time.

Curling her right hand behind the Doctor’s neck, she tugged him into another hearty kiss and decided that she kind of liked the salty, somewhat sweet tang of herself on him. She guided his cock to her center and gave a muffled groan of pleasure as he thrust home in one, smooth stroke.

Martha wrapped her limbs around the Doctor’s lithe frame, holding him there. It just felt so damn good she wanted to savor the moment.

She felt one of his hands skim up her back and unhook the clasp of her bra in one try. No frustrated fumblings for him. But in nine hundred some odd years, a bloke would be able to master such a thing. Although, she’d been with more than a few men who probably wouldn’t be able to figure it out given double that.

Her bra was tugged free and tossed aside, giving Martha the pleasure of complete skin to skin contact.

The Doctor slowly drew back from the kiss. “No more holding back,” he told her, fathomless dark eyes fixed on hers.

She grinned. “Don’t think I could hold back now if I wanted to.”

“Oh, you could,” he said with absolute conviction.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to find that out one of these days?”

“Because this is only the beginning, Martha Jones.” He kissed her then as he started to move. Gradually at first, so gradual that she was aware of every little change as his cock slid back through her channel. He almost pulled out completely before thrusting in again with one, quick stroke. Then repeated the withdrawal, just a fraction faster this time.

She was beyond impressed by his control. He certainly wasn’t unaffected, if the subtle tension running through his frame and rapid beating of his hearts against her chest were any indication. But he kept on with the slow, torturous build.

By the time the pace of the Doctor’s thrusts were in synch, Martha had little thought beyond the warm coil of impending climax winding tighter and tighter low in her belly. She was so there, but it kept building. She dug her nails into the Doctor’s back, urging him on, willing herself to go over. But after denying herself for so long, it just didn’t feel right to finally give in. Seems she could still hold out after all.

The Doctor’s breath was ragged against her ear. “Give in,” he enticed, the words thick and heavy with seduction.

God, she wanted to more than anything, and yet…

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Come for me, Martha Jones.”

The tension snapped and Martha’s body shuddered hard in its release. She was barely aware of the Doctor tumbling over after her.

They stayed there, locked together for what Martha would swear was a short eternity. Slowly, feeling and coherence started to return. She stroked her hands along the sweat damp planes of the Doctor’s back, familiarizing herself with muscle and bone. Her mind automatically began to rattle off the anatomical names of what her fingertips ran over.

She hadn’t realized she’d been saying the names out loud until the Doctor chuckled. “A ‘Fuck me’ or a ‘That was amazing’ I’d expect. But you start reciting basic anatomy.”

She lifted her head and gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, it’s a habit I developed early on in med school.”

“What? Using your lovers as object anatomy lessons?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

He beamed at her. “You are remarkable, Martha.”

Her face grew warm with his words.

He brought his right hand up and softly caressed her cheek. “You are,” he said seriously. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think differently.”

Martha just nodded.

“Good.” And lightning quick, his mood turned carefree once more as they slowly untangled from each other. “What do you say we get cleaned up and hit Orion’s Belt circa the twenty-seventh century?”

“What’s happening then?”

He retrieved her bra from where it dangled off one of the TARDIS’ myriad of controls and tossed it too her. “Dinner.” Bending over, he gathered up his trousers and shoes from the floor.

It took her a moment to reply; she was too distracted by the perfect, unobstructed view of his backside. Smooth, pale and extremely firm. She snapped to attention finally. “Dinner?” 

He peeked back at her, smirking as he stood back up with very deliberate slowness. “I’m famished, aren’t you?” 

“Incredibly,” she replied. In more ways than one. “But why dinner there?”

“Because we can, of course.” He lay his trousers over his shoulder and leaned with his right hip against the console. It afforded her a nearly unobstructed view of his frontside. Oh yeah, definitely gorgeous. He continued talking as if the two of them standing there completely starkers was the normal course of things. “And the little bistro just off Betelgeuse is the best in five galaxies. But only in the twenty-seventh century, mind you. Starts going downhill not long after the twenty-eighth starts. Near the end of it, well, if I said you’d be risking life and limb venturing there, I wouldn’t be exaggerating.”

“Well, let’s hope you manage to land us in the twenty-seventh century then,” she laughed, heading over to the bench to pick up the rest of her clothes. Everything but her knickers. Those had gone missing. She was certain she had thrown them here. She threw the Doctor a suspicious look.

He gave her an entirely too innocent one in return. “Ye of little faith.”

“No, ye of the less than stellar navigating skills.” And the knicker lifting. They’d sort that later.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you want to take a very cold shower? Alone?”

“Oi! That’s playing dirty.”

The Doctor smiled wickedly. “You don’t know how dirty I can play.”

God help her, but Martha really hoped she got a chance to find out.


End file.
